A short update. Sorry guys. So much work to do. And I sincerely apologize - this chapter is not that well written. I don't know why, but I just couldn't figure out what to do. I am very sorry. :-(

Rowling owns Harry Potter, blah di blah di blah. We all know this.

*****

Hermione groaned as she slowly awoke, head aching. She knew her eyes were closed, but honestly had no idea why, and although she wanted to open them, her eyelids were simply too heavy. Hermione gave another groan as she fought against the dead weight and finally opened an eye, and then the other. She blinked twice as the room slowly came into focus. She found three figures hovering over her: Ron, Madam Pomfrey, and surprisingly, Neville.

“How long was I out of it?” she mumbled, rubbing at her aching temples and removing locks of hair that had somehow plastered themselves to her face while she was unconscious.

“OH MY GOD!” Hermione repeated. “Harry…. Triwizard Tournament…. Portkey…. Cup….” Hermione continued her unusual babbling until one coherent sentence appeared: “WHERE IS HARRY?” Hermione tried to control her breathing. Meanwhile, it took the efforts of Ron, Neville, and Madam Pomfrey to keep her on her bed. Once Hermione calmed down, Madam Pomfrey left to assist other students in the hospital wing.

“That’s not necessary,” a voice said. Hermione turned around to find Professor McGonagall at the entrance. “Miss Granger,” McGonagall said, turning to Hermione, “I trust the shock has worn off and, although you may be upset, you are feeling better.”

“Yes, Professor,” Hermione replied in a controlled voice.

McGonagall eyed Hermione suspiciously, as if she knew Hermione would do anything to go to the Quidditch field (which was true), but her features relaxed and she said, “You may go, Miss Granger. However,” McGonagall turned to Neville and Ron, “Weasley, Longbottom, watch over her.”

“I do not need anyone to watch over me, Professor,” Hermione exclaimed indignantly, clearly stung by what she considered an insult.

“Love can make you do crazy things, Miss Granger,” McGonagall said softly.

Hermione looked up in surprise. Although she respected her teachers, she never expected, or wanted, love advice. However, that wasn’t her main concern. “I never said I loved him…” she said quietly. “I mean, we’re going out, and I care for him deeply, but…”

“Are you in love with him?” Neville asked matter-of-factly. Ron looked away pointedly. He did still have some feelings for Hermione, but he wasn’t going to destroy the relationship the trio had over it.

“I don’t think so,” Hermione said slowly as they walked quickly to the field. “I mean, as I told McGonagall, I care for him deeply. But, I mean, I’m only 14,” Hermione continued. “We’ve only dated for about six months…I don’t think I, or we’ve, had enough experience to say we’re in love,” Hermione finished thoughtfully. She realized that she was only walking towards the pitch, and began to run.

Neville and Ron exchanged looks, but ran after her.

There was still no sign of Harry or Cedric, and Hermione paced the field for hours, fiddling with her fingers, and praying for Harry’s safe return. A tap on her shoulder interrupted her, however. Hermione swung around and came face to face with Viktor Krum.

“Yes?” she asked stiffly. She did not need to deal with an all star Quidditch stalker at the moment.

“I vas vondering if I could haf a vord?” Krum asked her.

“Look,” Hermione said, trying to go about this diplomatically, “it’s really flattering that you have such strong feelings for me, but I have a boyfriend, one who may be in great danger. I really don’t have the time for this nonsense right now.” So much for being diplomatic, she thought to herself.

“No, no, no,” Krum said, shaking his head. “I just vanted to apologize. I didn’t know you two vere going out ven I told you.”

“How could you not know?” Hermione asked in disbelief.

“I tend not to listen to gossip,” Krum said with a shrug. “I vas hoping you could forgive me.”

Hermione almost smiled at this, despite what was going on around her. The number one seeker in the world wanted her forgiveness – how ironic.

“Sure,” Hermione said.

“Vould you mind if I wrote to you?” Krum asked hesitantly. “Just as a penpal…”

“Of course not,” Hermione said, although distracted. The crowd was moving suddenly. “Having a penpal would be great.” Before she could hear Krum’s response, Hermione found herself running toward the maze. The cup had just landed in a clearing, and Hermione pushed through the crowd, desperate to find Harry.

“Let me through!” she called, and somehow she pushed herself to the front of the crowd. She breathed a sign of relief as she found that Harry was safe and sound, but then gasped. He looked a wreck – his arm was heavily bleeding, there were scratches and bruises all over him, he was covered in dirt – and he was crying over a…no…it couldn’t be.

Hermione, not knowing what else to do, simply sat next to Harry. She wanted to comfort him, to hold him, to help him as he helped her before, but she didn't know how to do so. The tragedy had overwhelmed her, and so she remained sitting by Harry, who continued to shake.

A few minutes later, Mad-Eye Moody came down and took Harry by his arm.

"C'mon, Potter," Moody growled. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"Dumbledore said not to go," Harry said, his voice lacking any energy.